


From the Inside Out

by Megane



Category: Dragon Age II
Genre: Blackouts, Cliffhangers, Comes Back Wrong, Exhaustion, Fever, Fever Dreams, Hearing Voices, Infection, Missions Gone Wrong, Red Lyrium, Rescue Missions, Restraining, Work In Progress, fatigue
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-16
Updated: 2015-09-16
Packaged: 2018-04-21 03:03:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,636
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4812524
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Megane/pseuds/Megane
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nothing ever good comes out of the Deep Roads. Fenris knows this and comes back with the evidence buried beneath his skin.</p>
            </blockquote>





	From the Inside Out

**Author's Note:**

> This is a draft that's about five months old and is still essentially untouched. Right now, this is indefinitely in cliffhanger mode. When or if I go deeper into this story is really up in the air.

He felt it coming for days now.

It started at the Deep Roads. It was a damn near suicidal rescue mission. There was no gold to be had, no fame sought. The quartet emerged with their target, battered, bruised, but not beaten. Fenris’ body ached all over; his muscles screamed with pain. He had felt this deep fatigue and ache before, many times in his travels. It was like saying hello to an old, unwanted friend. He went with Varric to The Hangman and drank his pain away. The dwarf was kind enough to let the drunk warrior sleep on his floor. By morning, Fenris felt marginally better. The walk home was ungraceful. He squinted angrily at the sunny skies, but once he was home, he slept again.

The pain was a constant, dull reminder of their frantic mission, but he learned to live with it. It wasn’t painful enough to bother Hawke or Anders about, and he wasn’t in the mood to spend every waking moment drunk. It was a luxury that he couldn’t afford. When he was irritated, he felt a tightness in his chest. His ears heated in his brief rage, and it felt as though he had two hearts beating, both trying their damnedest to explode out of his chest. When he flashed his lyrium during a fight, the pain jolted through them. His head bounced between two hammers, and it was almost enough to take him out before the enemy did. He fought to catch his breath as he righted himself, but once he was on his feet, he raced from foe to foe. The world blended into a world of white, and when he was finished, he calmly stood before his companions with little memory of the event.

The aftermath was almost crippling. It hit him hardest once he was home and alone. He doubled over his table, groaning against the dusty wood. He sucked in a hissing breath and scratched his nails along the table’s surface. When he could right himself, his vision swam dangerously. Hawke came for him that night and the day after, but Fenris felt misplaced, away from this world and reality. Coherent thought left him, and for a while, he left himself.

Fenris found himself able to function some days after. The episodic blackouts stopped the night he found himself standing on a cliff edge near Sundermount. He hadn’t planned to jump — he didn’t think so anyway — but he felt at peace. His body didn’t hurt at all, but as he slowly came back to himself, the dullness set in. He returned home. He got used to the stiffness in his joints and the irritation in his step. When he was called again, Fenris swallowed down his discomfort and took to Hawke’s side. He wasn’t sure how to bring up his episodes, or even how to explain them. The mage asked in his charming, joking ways, trying to bury the concern that laid underneath. The elf wasn’t sure how to explain himself, but he promised to seek treatment after their mission at the Wounded Coast.

And that’s where things worsened.

After their main mission, Hawke wanted to scout the area again, a goofy grin on his face. The mage pulled himself away from the group, moving to stand on the edge of the pathway. He leaned too far forward and lost his footing. The others perked up as Hawke yelped and tumbled over the edge. They jogged closer, seeing the mage at the very bottom in the open, sandy circle. Isabela shook her head and slid down after him, digging her heels into the earth to keep her balance. Varric huffed out a laugh, as did Fenris. The two decided to do the sensible thing and take the long way around.

On a forward step, pain jolted through Fenris’ body up from his right foot all the way up to the back of his neck. It was so immediate and so sudden he fell to the ground. He caught himself with his left hand and placed his right on his back. Footsteps hurried closer to him. Heavy hands went to his body.

          “You alright, 

          “Perfectly. I just lost my 

          “Lost your footing, huh?” Varric helped the warrior to his feet. “I know you’re not exactly light on your feet, but try not to imitate 

          The elf scoffed out a laugh. “I’ll do my best.”

Varric kept a hand on Fenris’ back before finally drawing away. As the two walked, they could hear Isabela’s laughter bubble up into the air. Hawke’s own rolling chortle followed seconds after. “Well, they’re cheery,” Varric commented under his breath. Fenris couldn’t help but smirk. They met up with their other companions. Isabela was leaning against Hawke, her forearm resting close to his shoulder.

          “Look who decided to join us,” she stated, eyeing Fenris and then Varric.

          The dwarf opened out his arms, flicking his wrists with an added flair. “Never show up first to a party, Riviani. Gotta build up the anticipation.”

          The pirate’s smile broadened, her fine brow raising. “I’ll have to remember that.”

          “I don’t trust Hawke to not fall off random edges, so I’ll do a quick scout.” He lifted his head up to Fenris. “You be careful too, Elf.”

Fenris adjusted his weight, crossing his arms and staring down at the dwarf silently. Satisfied with that, Varric headed off on his self-assigned scouting mission. Isabela and Hawke talked, sometimes dragging Fenris into their conversation. The elf uncrossed his arms, massaging the palm of his right hand idly. He watched his companions converse, and the little reenactment of Hawke’s tale about him running into Orlesian nobles. Their voices drifted away from him, even though they themselves weren’t very far at all. Fenris blinked, gaze set blankly on the sky. Hawke glanced over to the elf as Isabela talked, and his smile waned slowly.

In spite of _hearing_ the concerned “Fenris...?” that left Hawke, the elf couldn’t reply. He wanted to. He wanted to say something, reach out, do... something, but he couldn’t. His eyes stayed fixated on the sky, even as it jerked away from him when he fell to his knees. His body shook with the sudden impact. Hawke raced closer to catch him from falling further. The elf heard himself huff out a laugh, but he wasn’t sure it was real. He saw Isaebela run off to get Varric and Hawke turn his head. Strangely, Fenris felt at ease when the world blurred and blackened.

His throat felt raw when he woke up again. His body was hot all over; some parts of him stung dully. His chest felt heavy as though hands were holding him down. He jutted up a hand, reaching for something as he fought for breath. He took hungry, desperate gulps of air, but couldn’t get his fill. He heard a voice — “He’s awake!” —and the sound of urgent footsteps coming closer. Something warm clasped onto his arm; fingers curled around his wrist. Someone tried to calm him, but it was in vain. Their voices went off one after the other, sometimes fading in between.

          “Is he dreaming?”

          “Having a nightmare?“

          “We can... sure. What happen... the Coast?”

          “Nothing unus… I was with... down but he walked... fine right after.”

They continued trying to assess the situation amongst themselves. To Fenris, their voices became louder and louder, blending together into an incoherent chorus. A softer tone moved underneath them. It was gentle, closer but still just out of earshot. It was much more welcomed than the dizzying voices lording over him. He honed his senses on the whispering, wanting it to be the only voice he heard.

          “Hawke, pull back!” Anders reached out to pull the other mage away.

Varric took a step closer, coming to Anders’ side. They watched as Fenris’ lyrium began to brighten. It started from his chest and quickly blossomed outward. Anders furrowed his brow and stepped closer. He could see some black spots in the lyrium on Fenris’ wrist, his forearms, and some other places. He reached out to touch the elf, but as he did, Fenris reacted quickly. The mage leaned back just in time to dodge the elf’s fingers curled in a claw like position. Fenris drew his arm over and rolled onto his side. Anders leaned down, looking for more of those blackened spots. His brows furrowed as he found a bruise on Fenris’ lower back.

          He turned to Hawke. “How long has he had this?”

          “Hm?” The brunet leaned down, looking at the bruise Anders indicated. “I can’t be sure. It looks old.”

          “Indeed it does.” He spread his fingers out, moving to reach out towards the elf. “I need you to hold him.”

Hawke nodded his head and stood straight. As soon as his hands came in contact with the elf’s skin, Fenris screamed again. He curled around the tangle of covers. His back tensed and arched as he curled in on himself. Anders leaned forward, watching as the lyrium on his back went brighter. His eyes lowered to the bruise. He held his breath. Any lyrium curling from underneath the bruise had tinges of red. Anders searched over the elf’s back, spotting more flecks of faint red here and there. He ran his index fingernail alongside a vein of lyrium. Fenris’ body twitched under the mages’ touches.

          “Release him,” Anders stated as he stood up again.

Both mages quickly moved out of the way as Fenris lashed out blindly once again.

          “What’d you see, Blondie?” Varric asked, staring up at the mage’s grave expression.

          “I...” Anders took a breath.

As he collected himself, Fenris’ pained yelling dwindled down to laboured breathing.

          “I don’t know how, but he’s been infected.” Anders glanced to the two men beside him. “By red lyrium.”


End file.
